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“SPACE!! The final frontier!” Wei Wuxian crows, drowning out the narration. “These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise!” He holds the remote up to his lips and mouths the opening lines to Lan Wangji, who sits frozen in his spot on the pristine white couch of the apartment he and his brother share. He thrusts out his hand and holds the remote in front of Wangji’s face like they’re performing a duet.
“C’mon, Lan Zhan! After a full season you gotta know the words by now!”
Wangji lowers his eyes, but says, in a monotone to rival the First Officer, “Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds…” They flicker up again to catch the delighted grin on Wei Wuxian’s face at his compliance, and his heart clenches as he wonders at the curse and blessing that got him here: binge watching a science fiction television show from over 50 years ago with the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen -- his best friend and the love his life, though they’ve never crossed that ‘final frontier,’’ as it were.
* ~ * ~ *
When Lan Wangji woke up two weeks ago today, everything was normal. He’d showered, smoothed the non-existent wrinkles out of his crisply pressed shirt, brushed and styled his hair until not a strand was out of place, and made a healthy, if bland, lunch so that he could utilize his lunch time to study rather than go out to eat like a number of his fellow students on campus. It was an absolutely average Friday, and he was looking forward to an absolutely average weekend. He was in love with the most beautiful and infuriating boy he’d ever met, and he was happy to be near him and maybe a little fearful they’d part ways after graduation. At that point in his life, he had never seen an episode of Star Trek: The Original Series.
“You’ve never seen Star Trek?!” Wei Wuxian screeched from across the table at their favorite cafe that he was at risk of being banned from if he doesn’t lower his voice. He already had a few strikes against him, along with his brother Jiang Cheng who usually upped the ante on the yelling when they were together. He couldn’t even defend his patronage by making the cafe a profit considering someone else (nowadays Lan Wangji himself) usually paid for his black coffee with 2 pumps of mocha, 2 shots of espresso, and a dash of chili powder. The drink, known as “the Fierce Corpse”, was added to the cafe menu months ago, but Wei Wuxian was the only one capable of ordering without staying awake for two days straight and missing class the next after passing out.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji met freshman year when Wangji discovered Wei Wuxian trying to sneak into the dorm on their dry campus after he lost his ID and was bringing a bottle of wine back to his room. He misjudged which window was his and nearly fell into Lan Wangji’s lap and destroyed his freshly complete ethics essay.
Lan Wangji might have called it love at first sight, were he not incredibly angry at Wei Wuxian offering to split the wine as an apology for risking his perfect GPA. As it was, they were both caught by the R.A. and punished with cleaning out the dorm kitchen for a week. Wei Wuxian swore Lan Wangji could write a new essay about the ethics of making a student touch the shared microwave without a hazmat suit.
Since then, Wei Wuxian never left Lan Wangji alone. He still questioned how a friendship, or a crush, could be formed over arguing what bacteria might grow from questionable puddles in said microwave (Wei Wuxian swore the stain in the back was either Chef Boyardee or blood from late night rituals the goth kid from down the hall, Mo Xuanyu, performed),
Wei Wuxian introduced Wangji to his brother, Jiang Cheng, and their sister, Jiang Yanli, who attended school with him. Jiang Cheng was loud, like Wei Wuxian, but he directed it mostly towards his brother in a way that made Wangji feel defensive in ways he didn’t examine. Yanli was kind even if she confused Wangji with the warm glances she threw him and Wei Wuxian’s way. It was an accident when Wei Wuxian met his brother, Lan Xichen, and his friends Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao; it escalated to terrible mistake when Wei Wuxian later confided to a willfully ignorant Wangji that there was definitely something “soap opera levels three-way sexy” going on between the three of them. Later, Wangji met philosophy major Nie Huaisang who turned out to be Mingjue’s younger brother (the same brother Mingjue complained would have no job after college because of his chosen major, even if Huaisang looked unbothered by the idea). Then came pre-med student Wen Qing who Wangji respected for her ability to patch Wei Wuxian up after he hurt himself during lab time, and her younger brother, Wen Ning, who Wei Wuxian doted on like a puppy he found in an alleyway (which was eerily similar to the story of how they met). Wangji refused to acknowledge the jealousy he felt when Wei Wuxian ruffled his hair or draped an arm over his shoulder.
Three years later and this was the same group Lan Wangji found himself seated with at a diner while Wei Ying (Wei Ying now, after the time and the insistence that no one could go through kitchen duty together without being soulmates) yelled at him over this newly discovered information that somehow escaped their friendship until that moment.
Even Mingjue looked surprised from his place next to Lan Xichen. “Never? Not even Next Generation?”
Wei Wuxian’s ponytail slapped the side of Wen Ning’s head when he turned to stare delightedly at Mingjue. “You’re a trekkie?!”
“I didn’t say that,” Mingjue said gruffly, even though denying being a trekkie means he knew what one was. “I like that Worf character. It’s something to put on TV when nothing is on.” He did not notice that Nie Huaisang texted Wei Wuxian a pic of him and his older brother at a Star Trek convention in what looked suspiciously like Klingon cosplay. He never even broke eye contact; it’s an impressive skill Mingjue hadn’t learned to appreciate.
Wei Wuxian will interrogate Huaisang later about this new reveal, but his attention turned back to Lan Wangji, as it usually did. “We have to watch it. We’re watching it. At your place ‘cause you’ve got the good TV.”
“When?”
“It’s Friday, we already finished our last classes…” He looked over to Lan Xichen. He pointed to his fuller than usual looking backpack and nodded towards Meng Yao and Mingjue. “You’re staying with them tonight, right?”
“Oh, well I--” Lan Xichen looked at his brother, then to Meng Yao whose smile never faltered, then to Nie Mingjue who still looked slightly put out at being caught about his interest in ‘nerd stuff’. When he looked back to his brother, a moment passed and something shifted in his gaze -- something knowing, something dangerous. “I am. For the whole weekend.”
Wei Wuxian’s grin risked breaking his face as he grabbed Lan Wangji’s unprotesting hand. “Then right now!”
* ~ * ~ *
That was two weeks ago. Now Wangji knows what a Klingon is (“They develop them a lot in the next series, Lan Zhan, so we gotta watch that one next.”). He briefly panicked when the episode title “The Naked Time” came up on screen, having known the reputation for American culture in the 1960s -- he was relieved when only one character appeared shirtless. From a psychological perspective, he finds the idea of the “Vulcan Mind Meld” ‘fascinating’, though a huge breach of privacy. Later that night, after Wei Ying leaves, he cannot say he doesn’t imagine what it would be like to connect that way with the other boy, to be able to share his feelings in a way that is so much easier than words.
The show itself is, admittedly, very good, if cheesy and low-budget. Wangji doesn’t understand how a shirt could rip so easily, nor how much it must have cost to constantly replace them. His favorite part is when they let Netflix sit on the “Are you still watching?” screen and they discuss the episodes and characters -- their favorites and even the deeper philosophy the show explores, which was surprisingly progressive for the time period. Wei Ying likes to rant about how the remastered versions replaced the special effects and made the more timeless models look dated due to poor quality computer graphics. Wangji nods along and is glad to let him ramble his fill. He’s very pretty when waxing poetic about tampering with perfection.
“It was a really big deal to have Uhura on the show! Lan Zhan, did you know that she almost left it? Can you imagine? She’s really cool, like, a really cool person even outside of the show. It was really important for people to be able to see a character like her, you know? They did that a lot on this show. There’s this kiss between her and -- haha, oops, spoilers. Sorry, Lan Zhan.”
“Mm. You like her?”
He grins sheepishly. “I watched an interview. It was about her work in science and -- shut up, Lan Zhan! I might let Jiang Cheng call me a nerd but I’m not hearing it from you! You’re a way bigger nerd than me!”
“I did not say anything.” He hides the curve of his lips behind a veggie dumpling. He rarely ordered take out before, but now they have a ‘usual take out order’ during their binge watching. He’s a regular at a place with Wei Ying . Will wonders never cease.
It’s during one such talk that Lan Wangji, without giving too much away, brings up his interest in the mind meld.
“It’s...fascinating.” He says, wishing he could convey the longing he felt for having a way to communicate so quickly and intimately with another person (or one specific person).
The laugh that erupts from Wei Ying is unexpected, and a little hurtful. It must show on his face (and what does it mean that Wei Ying can read him so clearly now) because he waves his hand and scratches at his nose. “Sorry, sorry, Lan Zhan! It’s so funny, watching this with you, I never realized how much you remind me of Spock! ‘Fascinating’! Haha!”
Spock is a very respected and important character on the show, but Wangji’s heart clenches at the comparison. Cold, calculating, logic, emotionless. It’s so many of the things he’s been called his whole life, but never the way he’s felt . It isn’t that he dislikes these things about himself, but ever since he met Wei Ying, he finds himself wanting to be able to reach across that cold void of space between them and assure him he felt, not a black hole, but the sun burning inside -- the sun Wei Ying put there. But he can’t. If he gives in, he’ll never stop and he’ll never let go, but there’s no way Wei Ying should ever be tied down. He deserves to be out there, exploring the universe, going boldly to wherever his clever mind and open heart take him. To support him and bask in the face of such energy -- he understands why Spock could stand behind that chair every day for five years, content to watch, if not to touch.
“Mm. Then you are like Kirk.”
“Haha what?! No way!”
“Brave. Loud. Charming. Self-sacrificing.”
Wei Ying’s laughter trickles away as he looks at Lan Wangji. His mouth is still smiling but his eyes are searching. Wangji wonders if he said something wrong, but the moment is gone when Wei Ying turns his head to the side to look back to the tv. The bangs framing his lovely face hide his expression from view. “How about another? Next episode!!”
Wangji can’t tell if it’s the glare of the phaser lights on the television making Wei Ying’s cheeks look tinted pink.
* ~ * ~ *
Between classes, time spent with other friends, and all the things that get in the way of a good television marathon, it’s a full month since they started before they can continue on to the second season, which Wei Ying seems very excited for. He assures Wangji that it’s very important that he learn what a tribble is so that he can help him and Wen Qing try to bio-medically engineer one for finals.
Lan Xichen spends less time at their shared apartment than ever, and Wangji would be embarrassed if he weren’t so grateful. This time spent, just the two of them, is precious to him. Every Friday or Saturday night, they sit (or sprawl, in Wei Ying’s case) on the couch or the floor and watch until the glow from the windows fades into the evening. The room darkens but they don’t turn on the lights. The screen is their candlelight while Kirk updates his Captain’s Log and they eat from the takeout containers scattered on the coffee table.
“Season two! Starting strong with Amok Time! This one is so good, Lan Zhan. Spock is so great.”
His ears warm and it feels like a compliment, even if it’s not.
They didn’t stop with their comparisons after the first time weeks ago, though they do not bring up themselves again. Wangji has never seen Wen Qing so pleased as when Wei Ying informed her that they compared her to Dr. McCoy the previous weekend. Mingjue mumbled something about a “Beverely Crusher” and Wei Wuxian has not let it go since. Wangji and Wei Ying still aren’t sure who it was that found more pictures of Mingjue’s Worf costume at the anniversary convention costume contest from a few years ago that led to the current lock screen on Lan Xichen’s phone. He’s convinced it’s Meng Yao, but he won’t confirm or deny the accusations no matter how many times Huaisang whines to him.
“See, Lan Zhan? This is what’s so great about Spock. He talks a big game about being logical, but it’s not like that. His emotions run deep. He feels a lot.”
Wangji glances away from the television and is surprised to find Wei Ying looking at him, not at Dr. McCoy explaining his concerns to Kirk. Their gazes hold a moment longer, Wangji feeling the frisson he always does under the weight of those eyes. Wei Ying inhales a little too loudly and looks away again. Wangji wishes he could chase that air past those lips.
In the show, a bowl of soup hits the wall outside Spock’s quarters. He can relate.
Wei Ying snickers next to him. “Spock with the velvet curtains. There’s no way anyone with velvet curtains is all brain and no dic--” He laughs until he turns to Wangji as if seeking agreement, but thinks better of it and turns quickly back to the screen.
“No what?”
“Haha, Lan Zhan, it’s nothing. I’ll shut up! We’re watching!”
Did Wei Ying think he wouldn’t get the joke? Was Wangji so boring?
The episode continues, and the tension in Wangji’s shoulders builds. There is something about this. Something close and maybe a little uncomfortable. Here is a man, a Vulcan, respected by his peers and known for his strength of mind and character acting at odds with everything that he is perceived to be. He was raised to keep his vulnerabilities hidden and his urges restrained. He feels shame for his desires, even as they overwhelm him. It is natural but unknown, celebrated but a secret.
He is not meant to be ashamed, and yet he is. His friend knows, but understands.
‘My eyes are flame, my heart is flame.’ Spock says, and Lan Wangji feels his own heart clench. He looks out of the corner of his eye at Wei Ying, whose eyes are locked on the screen even if he knows the story. Wei Ying’s hair is pulled back with his usual red tie, and loose strands graze his cheekbones. His fingers tap at the edge of the remote because he’s always moving somehow, uncontainable. He is beautiful and beautifully alive in everything he does. This is it. The words that Spock said, the burning and unwillingness to give in but the all encompassing desire. This is what it is like.
He feels like he’s watching himself on the screen, sees himself in the character in a way he’s never understood before. The idea of seeking fiction out because it could show you yourself -- Wangji never understood this until now. It is cathartic, to see the act without acting. It’s a glimpse of getting to let go without the fall.
Could he, like Spock, give in to his most base urges? Give in to his instincts and have? Take ? But Spock isn’t doing that. Because he doesn’t want T’Pring? No, the urge he doesn’t want is to hurt his best friend and to go against everything he felt he is. He wants to stay on the Enterprise with him. He wants him safe. Is that not the real want the Vulcan gives into? He submits to the punishment, the pain of being the reason for his Captain and best friend’s death -- because he thought it was already lost, not only because it was the right thing to do. If Wangji were less like the man on the screen, mourning his loss, he might be screaming.
Wei Ying sits, in blissful ignorance of the battle next to him, even as one wages on screen between Kirk and Spock. He squeezes the corner of a pillow with slender fingers and he smiles as Kirk smiles on the screen, revealed to be alive and well.
Wei Wuxian laughs with delight. “Look at him smile!” Wangji is, but it’s not a smile on the TV screen. “See, Lan Zhan? Spock doesn’t show how he feels all the time, but he does when he really means it. Just like you!”
“Is he?”
The laughing boy’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. “Is he what?”
“Like me?”
Wei Wuxian opens his mouth but shuts it again, thinking better of answering flippantly. Wangji likes these moments too, when he gets to see Wei Ying’s brilliant mind at work.
“Hmm, you’re both smart! But kind of stupid about some things.” He laughs, “No! Don’t make that face. It’s a good thing. You both don’t need a lot of words to say what you mean. You’re very focused. Raised in kind of a strict environment, but still kind of a rebel when you want to be. Or when I want you to be.” He shakes his head with another laugh. “Protective. The most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Terrible at drinking. Kind, but quiet about it. Passionate…I mean! Like, about...um...music! Your interests.” The repetitive click of Wei Wuxian nervously sliding the battery cover on and off is a metronome, ticking away in the silence between them while Wangji takes this in. Were they still talking about Spock?
“And these are all good things.”
Wei Wuxian looks at him like he’s demonstrating the stupid he was accused of being. “They’re very good things.”
“You like these things.” Not quite a question, but with doubt at its foundation.
“I like them very much. Lan Zhan,” he looks unsure of himself, like Kirk accepting the challenge against Spock. “I like you very much.”
Wangji feels like a plucked string, the vibration of the note reaching from his scalp to his toes.
He doesn’t realize he’s moving his hand until it rests on Wei Ying’s forearm and slides up to the crook of his elbow in a mirror of the two men on screen only moments ago, but slower. More tentative. Intimate, maybe.
The blood fever, Vulcans called it. He feels his ears heat, and wonders at the science of it.
“La-Lan Zhan..? I...” Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide in the dim room. The screen is asking if they’re still watching, but they aren’t.
It’s late enough in the evening that the light coming in from the windows is a pale blue that matches the screen. Wangji sees the glow of the screen reflecting as a square of light in Wei Ying’s eyes. He wants to be close enough to see himself in them. He wants to be close enough to be the only thing Wei Ying sees. He wants Wei Ying to see this in his own eyes. He wants Wei Ying to feel the same. He wants.
‘Take a wife or die,’ Spock said, when explaining his biology. It feels like that. It feels like that when he looks at Wei Ying. Like if he can’t hold him, can’t touch him, it will be the end of him. It feels like even if he could, he’d still meet the same fate.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again, but it’s not a question this time. Wangji drags his eyes away from his own hand sliding up Wei Ying’s bicep towards his shoulder, up the slender column of his throat, past the bobbing adam’s apple as he swallows and the slickness of his lips when he wets them with his tongue. Wei Ying’s long eyelashes flutter when he looks down at Wangji’s mouth in return. “Lan Zhan…”
Wangji likes how he says his name. Likes how often he says it. He likes how it feels against his lips when they finally meet. He likes how the exhale that escapes between their mouths could have been his name, but now it’s too occupied to say. He likes how he can taste it, chase it, back to where it comes from. He likes it. He loves it.
“Lan Zhan, oh, Lan Zhan,” he finally says when Wangji gives him a chance to use his mouth for something other than kissing. “Was it this easy? We could have made out if I made you watch one season of Star Trek months ago?”
Wangji moves close for another kiss but Wei Ying playfully taps his fingers against his cheek. “Wait! Wait, just a minute. We’ll get back to the kissing, I promise. But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you kissing me now?”
Wangji looks at him until Wei Ying squirms a little under the weight of his earnest stare. “That is not the right question.”
“Uh...it’s not?”
Wangji’s hand is still resting on the other’s arm, and he tightens his grip possessively, though not hard enough to bruise. (That’s for later.) “Mm. It is ‘why did I not do so sooner?’”
Wei Ying opens his mouth, but has to clear his throat. He may be at a loss for words for the first time in his whole life. “How soon?”
“When you explained who the Chef Boyardee was.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying looks aghast, and pushes at his shoulder. “That was the first week I met you!”
“Yes.”
“You--” He searches Wangji’s face, eyes wide but...hopeful. “You wanted to then?”
“And every day since.”
Wei Ying is kissing him, as enthusiastically as everything he commits himself to. It takes some time for Wangji to notice the kissing stopping and the talking starting again.
“Me too. I mean, maybe not then because you looked really angry. But when I realized I did, it was like I had always wanted it. I didn’t think you’d want--”
“I will always want Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan!! Did watching Star Trek make you this romantic?!”
“Wei Ying makes me--” A hand covers his mouth and muffles any attempts to finish his truth.
“Stop! I can’t deal with this with no warning. When did my Lan Zhan get so smooth.”
The next kiss is wetter than the last, and rougher and addictive in every way. ‘My Lan Zhan,’ Wei Ying said, but he was the one complaining about needing a warning?
When they part, Wei Ying’s eyes are sparkling. “Tell me. Tell me you like me.”
“I like you.”
“I like you too. Tell me you want to kiss me.”
“I want to kiss you.”
“Tell me how much.”
“More than I can stand.”
He knows this grin, this Wei Ying, who is over the surprise and wants to give as good as he gets. He’s tempted to kiss away whatever is about to come out of his mouth. “So...let me see if I’ve got this right.” A sudden shift and Wei Ying’s bent knee is pressing against the side of his torso, trapping him and reeling him in closer. “You’re saying you wanna boldly go where no man has gone before?”
Wangji thinks -- no, he knows he too could battle to the death in a ceremonial ring for the man in front of him. Wei Ying laughs at whatever expression he sees on Wangji’s face and leans in greedily for another kiss.
Wei Ying’s hands come to rest on his shoulders. The slither of his wrists and then forearms drape over his shoulder like the comforting warmth of a blanket. He follows the other boy’s gravity, ever in his orbit, as he falls back into the pillows of the couch with Wangji propped above him.
“Pon farr really does it for you, huh, Lan Zhan?”
“Mm.” Wei Ying smells a little like the buttery popcorn he made in the microwave earlier when he breathes against his neck.
“Was it the nip slip when Kirk’s shirt got cut?”
“Nn.” Wei Ying’s hair falls like silk against the couch pillow when Wangji pulls out the hair tie to run his hands through it. He feels a jolt of appreciation for the way the other boy shivers against him.
“W-was it...ohhh-- was it--” Wangji interrupts him with another kiss, and it’s some time before Wei Ying can finish his question. “Was it how Spock was willing -- oh, oh that’s… -- was it that he was gonna give it all up for K-Kirk?”
Wangji doesn’t respond with his voice.
“W-was it-- ah, Lan Zhan!” He doesn’t get the chance to ask again. It’s much later when Wangji answers him, quietly against his ear as he brushes damp strands of hair from Wei Ying’s forehead.
“It’s you, Wei Ying.”
In this, it turns out, Spock was wrong: the having is even better than the wanting.